Title: Do it with a Flair

Author: Brandy

Email: For now, R but eventually it'll be NC-17

Spoilers: None

Summary: Nope. No summary this time. I'm no good at them anyway, so you'll just have to trust me and read it!

Characters: Various WWE superstars including, Ric Flair, Molly Holly and Randy Orton

Disclaimer: You people know the drill. I don't own, so don't sue, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Dedication: This story is written to feed the crazy appetite of my muses AND for Rachel, who is now the self-proclaimed "Mrs. Randy Orton" blows kisses For you toots! ;)

This is NOT the way I had expected things to happen.

Granted, being the daughter of a living legend, one should always expect the unexpected. But after almost 25 years of relative calmness I should've known that the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan. Especially after I informed my father that I wanted to become a professional wrestler.

But, starting a story in the middle has a tendancy to confuse people, so it's best that I start at the beginning. I was born just outside of Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My parents were married a grand total of 11 months when they divorced, shortly before my first birthday. My mom was an alcoholic although I must say, she hid it well. Not even the seemingly neverending stream of boyfriends she brought to the house knew. I never said anything about it because I was too busy being the apple of my father's eye: his first child, his baby girl. I can remember that last weekend I spent with my mother. He had come to pick me up, and as soon as he opened the door to see my mom passed out drunk on the couch while a three year old was reaching for the bottle dangling from her fingers, he filed for custody of me. Naturally he won. I didn't have any contact with my mother after that. She never tried to contact me and I never tried to contact her. My dad was all I needed. As far as I know, mom's still in North Carolina, living the drunk life.

I traveled with dad all the time after that. I met all the big superstars: Andre the Giant, the Iron Sheik, Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, the Ultimate Warrior, Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat...but of course, my favorite was "The Nature Boy, Ric Flair"...my dad. I was treated like a queen backstage, spoiled beyond belief. I had every wrestler, every member of the lighting crew, all the wardrobe people, the makeup people, the men AND the women, wrapped around my little finger. Since dad and I were with them 297 days of the year, all of the wrestlers became my surrogate family, along with the McMahon's. Hell, I probably spent more time at Stephanie and Shane's house than THEY did! Vince was just like a second dad to me and Linda was the perfect mother figure.

But as I grew up, dad decided that it was time I had a "stable" home and sent me to stay permanantly during the school year, with my grandparents. They lived in a tiny little town in Tennessee called Manchester and from day one I was the epitome of the term "bad seed". I threw fits, fought in school, cursed at my teachers, broke things, refused to do school work...just about every kind of law that my grandparents tried to lay down, I'd break. By the end of the first year, my temper had calmed considerably and I wasn't acting out anymore. That didn't change the fact that my grandparents saw me as something of a burden. They constantly told me, a seven year old, that they hadn't wanted to have my mother in the first place, much less have to raise her kid. This continued for 3 years, until my eleventh birthday. My father came to pick me up that weekend, and walked in on a shouting match between me and my grandma. She was calling me every name in the book, like she'd been doing the whole time I stayed with them. She didn't see my father walk into the room or she never would've done what she did next. Without blinking an eye, that batty old woman backhanded me. One of the many rings she liked to wear on her skinny old fingers, caught me directly below my right eye. Seeing the blood on my face made her laugh and my father stormed in slamming her against the wall.

"If you EVER touch my child again, I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of your life in the state pen." Dad then ordered me up to my room to pack all my stuff. As I was throwing all my things into a suitcase, I could hear yelling downstairs.When I was finished I calmly walked down the stairs and out the front door without a backward glance. I knew then that somehow my life was about to change.

And I was right. After that altercation I went back on the road with dad, and had tutors to teach me my lessons. Neither one of us mentioned what had happened at my grandparents house, other than for him to ask me if I was hurt anywhere else and if that was the first time she'd ever hit me. I told him it was the first time that had ever happened, but that they had called me all sorts of names and called me worthless. My father pulled me to him for a big hug, his familiar smell engulfing my senses. "You never have to see them ever again, baby." He told the truth: I never saw them again. I learned five years ago, that they had both passed, within two weeks of each other, but my father never said a word about it to me. Instead, I'd overheard him telling Vince, asking if I could stay at their house during the roster's break, while he went back to clear up some loose ends. Despite what they had done to me, they were still my family and I grieved their passings, unlike dad, who to this day still hasn't said a word about them to me. I couldn't really blame him for not telling me they were gone. It was almost an unspoken agreement between the two of us that we NEVER talked about them, REGARDLESS of what may happen. At any rate, I spent the next six years on the road with him, traveling from arena to arena doing one show after the other. By the time I was seventeen I had already made my way through high school level courses and had technically graduated. I was really looking forward to starting college, despite my father begging me to take some time off, that I was too young for that life yet.

I met Randy Orton for the first time that year. I had seen him around of course, trailing after his father "Cowboy" Bob Orton. He was a couple of years younger than me, but already he was starting to show his heritage. It was almost as if you could see his muscles developing day by day. We became reluctant allies after he "accidentally" slammed a door in my face, mistakenly thinking it was his father whom he'd argued with earlier in the day. I decked him.

"Watch what you're doing, ya fuckin' moron!" I screamed, reaching up with my now sore hand to hold my even sorer nose. When I pulled it away, it only made me angrier that I was bleeding. Moving my hand allowed me to see just who it was that had made me bleed. "Je-sus Christ! Randall Keith Orton!" Randy looked down from where he was also holding his nose and ineffectually tried to sneer at me. "Shut up, Molly Holly Flair!" No sooner had the words left his skinny little lips, then I socked him again, just to prove a point. I hated it when someone called me by my full name...it reminded me too much of the time I spent with my grandparents. I lightly fingered the quarter inch scar directly below my right eye and thought that I didn't need any more of a reminder than that. He looked up at me from where I'd knocked him on his ass.

"That's it you little bitc"

"RANDALL!" I whirled around to see Randy's father, filling the doorway with his imposing figure, hands on his hips with a scowl on his face. "Just what the hell do you think you're doin'? I raised you better than to speak to a lady that way!"

"Yeah, but SHE'S no lady, dad." Randy said, his eyes never leaving me, as though he were afraid I'd strike out at him again. Good thinking on his part if you asked me, because if given the chance, I'd have knocked him on his ass AGAIN for what he'd just said. Mr. Orton took a step towards both of us, glaring as he frowned at his son.

"Apologize, Randy." Randy finally looked up at his father and blinked in amazement.

"You CAN'T be serious, dad! Look at what she did to me!" he pointed to his bloody nose from the first punch and his rapidly swelling eye from the second. Mr. Orton took Randy's chin in his hand, turning his head from side to side. He looked over at me, but I refused to cower under his intense stare. A scowl darkend his features.

"Molly, did you do this?" I gulped, holding my chin up high and nodded. He shot me a grin.

"Have you ever considered becoming a professional boxer? Looks like you've got a helluva right hook!" Before I could stop myself a gusty sigh slipped out and a small grin found it's way to my lips. Randy simply stood there, dumbstruck. Which, I might add, is his normal look. He sputtered.

"You can't be serious, dad! She fuc" he stopped himself upon seeing the scowl returning to his dad's face. "She freakin' bloodied my nose!" Mr. Orton nodded. "And it looks like you bloodied hers too." He turned to me.

"He has a good point, Molly. Just what happened exactly?" I proceeded to tell him everything, from the time I started off down the hall in search of Stephanie, until that moment. He raised an eyebrow at his son, a look that would eventually become a trademark for a future superstar. "Is that what happened Randy?" The little twerp actually had the nerve to blush. He nodded his confirmation. Mr. Orton sighed and slung an arm around Randy's shoulders. "Well, I was coming here to tell you I'm sorry about yelling at you earlier, son..." As he continued with his little speech I started fidgeting, uncomfortable being present during such a private conversation. I inched my way toward the door, almost making it out before I felt the heavy hand of Randy's dad on my shoulder.

"However, I'm going to have to talk to your dad, Molly. You kids need to be punished." I shook his hand off my shoulder, indignant.

"Punished? All I did was defend myself!" But it was too late, because he'd already left to go find my dad, leaving me and the overgrown pimple in the same room. I flopped down on the couch with a huff,crossing my arms. I glared up at Randy. "This is all YOUR fault, ya know." I told him. He shrugged and grabbed a chair, turning it and straddling it to face me. He propped his head up on his hands on the back of the chair. He looked at me curiously, long enough that I started to feel uncomfortable again, a feeling I do not relish. I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue at him. I know, I know. Real mature for a seventeen year old, but this kid seemed to be bringing out the worst in me.

"Ya know, if you take a picture, it'll last longer AND I won't have to kill you." I said sweetly, allowing some of the coldness I was feeling to show in my eyes. He laughed and gestured toward me.

"I was just wondering how you're going to explain that swollen and bloody nose to your boyfriend." I looked at him, confused.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't HAVE a boyfriend." It was Randy's turn to roll his eyes.

"Puh-lease! Everyone knows that you and Shane O' Mac are an item!" I couldn't help it. My jawed dropped open and my eyes widened. In hindsight, I must've looked like an owl. Or a fish out of water.

"We are not! That's just gross!" I shuddered. "Shane's like a brother to me." Randy snickered.

"What, you open mouth kiss your 'brother'?"

"What in the hell are you talking about!" Randy waved dismissively.

"I've seen you two before, making out in the hallway." I thought back, trying to remember. I knew for a fact that I'd never kissed Shane other than on the cheek. Then it hit me. I couldn't help it: I started laughing. Randy's smirk turned into a frown.

"What's so funny?" I shook my head, not able to catch my breath and holding my sides I was laughing so hard. When my little fit had finally abated, I wiped my eyes and looked over at Randy.

"That wasn't Shane, dumbass. That was my ex-boyfriend, AJ !" I thought I might have imagined it, but for a split second there, I thought I'd seen a glimmer of relief in his eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, it faded. He schooled his features into a nonchalant look.

"Whatever. The question remains, how are you gonna explain it?" I leaned back against the couch: I was wiped out. When I'd "run" into Randy I had been on my way to find Steph to see if she knew where I could find my dad. We'd been traveling for 8 weeks straight, I'd been fighting a cold the whole time and all I wanted to do was head to the hotel.

"What's it to you, Orton?" I muttered. I'd allowed my eyes to drift shut, not seeing him get up to come sit by me.

"I just like to know if I'm gonna have some guy come after me, that's all. So's I can be prepared." I jumped at the sound of his voice so close to me, and head butted him, my nose connecting firmly with his chin.

"Christ Jesus, Randy! What are doing! Trying to break it now?" I noticed a wet feeling on my face and groaned, reaching up to feel my nose and again coming away with a handful of blood. "Damnit, I'm bleeding again!" Before either one of us knew what was happening, Randy pulled off his shirt and held it to my nose, lightly pinching the bridge to stop the flow of blood that was making it's way down my face. Boy, was I glad that shirt covered my mouth, 'cause I'd have had some explaining to do if Randy had seen my jaw drop at the sight of his bare chest. He may have only been fifteen, but his body was well on it's way to muscled perfection.

I looked up to see an odd expression on Randy's face. He pulled away the shirt to wipe up some of the blood that reached my lips. I snaked my tongue out to taste the coppery flavor of the fluid. His eyes flickered there and we seemed to be drawn together, closer and closer, until I could feel his warm, sweet-smelling breath on my lips. Instinctively, my eyes fluttered closed.

"Molly! What's this I hear about you and Randy getting into it?" I swear to you, I've never jumped as far and as fast as I did when our fathers walked into the room. We separated quickly, but I knew by the little smirk on Randy's dad's face, that Mr. Orton was aware of what had been going on. He was the first one in the room, just a millisecond before my dad, but still enough time to allow us to move. He schooled his features and looked at Randy sternly.

"C'mon, son. Tell Mr. Flair what happened." So Randy began the story all over again, and to his credit not leaving out one single detail. Dad looked at me and all of the sudden it occured to me how old he looked, how tired. He rubbed one hand across his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a headache coming on. Usually one that I cause.

"Molly, apologize to Randy." I looked at him, completely stunned. I may have been prepared to kiss the little turd a few minutes ago, but that didn't mean I owed him any sort of an apology!

"You've GOT to be kidding." I said, exasperated. My dad gave me that 'no nonsense' look and the vein in his forehead started to throb, so I knew he was reaching his limit on patience. I turned to Randy and stuck out my hand.

"Randy, I apologize for knocking you on your ass." I said through gritted teeth, but with a smile on my face. Mr. Orton burst out laughing at that. My dad glared at him, sending a silent communication that only dad's have. He stopped laughing, but allowed a smirk to remain in place. He looked over at his son.

"Don't you have something to say, Randy?" Randy looked every bit as reluctant as I was to apologize.

"Uh... apology accepted?" he asked, a little boy look coming across his face. My eyes narrowed. This little punk had better apologize to me or I was going to be forced to make his life pretty damn miserable. At the glare his dad sent him, Randy sighed heavily. "I apologize, Molly." We shook hands, quickly letting them drop to our sides.

"Come on, Molly", my dad said slinging an arm around my shoulders, my little altercation being forgotten in his mind. "We've got a week off, starting tonight." I forgot about the problem with Randy momentarily and looked up at my dad with a huge grin on my face.

"Does that mean we get to visit colleges?" I asked sweetly, giving him my best 'I'm-your-only-daughter-and-favorite-little-girl' look. he reached up again, pinching the bridge of his nose and I knew that I would eventually wear him down. As we walked out, I couldn't resist turning to look one last time at Randy. He was pulling on a different shirt, balling up the bloody one and putting it in his bag. Our gazes locked and a shiver went up my spine. Somehow I knew this thing between us wasn't over yet...it had only just begun.